


let our ghost loose (let me know that you're still there)

by groves625



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unresolved Romantic Tension, it's about the (healing) hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groves625/pseuds/groves625
Summary: "It's been a while since I've asked for this favor, but... will you hold me? Will you carry me?"So briefly that Beau might have been hallucinating (which, let's be honest, after the beating she just took, she fucking might be), Yasha's eyes dart to her own feet as her pale cheeks flush pink."Yeah, I can hold you."ORSometimes Beau can't believe Yasha is really back. For the first time since the Mighty Nein destroyed Obann and welcomed a scared, repentant Yasha back into their ranks, Beau allows herself to reflect on those feelings she has buried deep inside herself - feelings that won't stay buried much longer.Insert for episode 102.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 30
Kudos: 351





	let our ghost loose (let me know that you're still there)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Let Me Hold You" by Nick Wilson.

The last thing Beau sees before the world goes dark is the piercing gaze and gaping maw of the undead specter. Before she knows what hit her, Beau’s knees buckle, her vision blurs, and she - she just wanted to help a crying kid, goddammit. See if she ever fucking does that again. Motherfucker. 

Her consciousness leaves her before she hits the forest floor. 

...And then it’s back.  _ Ouch _ \- shit - fuck - yep, she’s back again, sprawled in the muck, and she fucking  _ hurts _ . Craning her neck - ouch,  _ shit _ \- she sees Fjord, his front covered in mud, his arm extended to reach Beau’s shoulder. The soft, healing energy radiating from his hand fades before her eyes. 

“Thanks, man,” Beau exhales. Her body feels sapped of energy, like she got the wind knocked out of her by a fucking owl bear. She can hardly keep her eyes open, which she belatedly realizes is probably a good thing. Don’t want to stare into that ugly fuckin’ mug again. She takes a deep breath and braces herself to attempt to get back in the game, when she senses another figure step into her space, crouched directly over her. Beau manages to open her eyes long enough to see pale skin, deep blue war paint, and two different colored eyes, intensely focused. 

Beau blinks.

She does not see the canopy of trees or the dense forest. Instead, her vision is filled with an arching stone ceiling and stained glass windows. Instead of the rough forest floor, Beau feels the cool stone of the cathedral steps, and an uncomfortably hot, sticky puddle of liquid emanating from her chest. She doesn’t have to look down to know she’s laying in a pool of her own blood. 

Her body aches as she sees Yasha standing over her, war paint still intact but those eyes - they’re cold. Unfeeling. Empty.

Beau’s pulse begins to race as Yasha raises Skingorger, rusted, already dripping scarlet, the point of the greatsword hovering directly over Beau’s heart. But Beau is frozen in place, her body refusing to follow her commands. She tries to summon all her strength to just  _ move _ as Yasha - gentle, wonderful, beautiful Yasha - prepares to deliver the killing blow. 

Beau braces herself for the impact - but it never comes. Instead, Yasha, eyes still cold and detached, bends over her and extends a hand toward Beau’s face. 

Beau flinches, and blinks again. 

The church is gone, replaced by the dark of the forest. Yasha still crouches over Beau’s prone form, her hand extended. Those eyes, the ones that both delight and haunt her dreams, are no longer empty, but brimming with concern.

“Beau?” Yasha breathes, her chest heaving with exertion, hand stilled in midair. With an ounce of shame, Beau realizes her recoil wasn’t a dream. She takes a breath, relaxes, and Yasha takes the invitation. She reaches forward and gently cradles Beau’s cheek. 

The relief is instant. The pain, though it doesn’t go away completely, fades significantly. The radiant warmth suffuses Beau’s body, and to her side she hears a quiet scoff.

“It’s not a competition,” Fjord mumbles as he makes his way to his feet, brushing the dirt from his front. Yasha pays him no mind, her eyes still searching Beau’s face. Cherishing the warmth coming from Yasha, Beau reaches up and holds Yasha’s hand in place, letting out a soft moan she would be ashamed of were she more conscious. 

“Keep touching me….”

The flicker of a smile that flashes across Yasha’s face is cut off by another slow, rattling wail. Yasha’s head snaps towards the specter, and Beau sees her muscles tense and her eyes darken as she allows her rage to overcome her. Yet Yasha remains, crouched like a panther, brandishing Skingorger, and shielding Beau as best she can.

It’s kinda hot, honestly.

Okay, it’s super fucking hot.

For a moment, Beau can’t tear her eyes away from the sight of her fearsome protector. Quite frankly, she’s turned on. But underneath her arousal, she can’t help but feel that achingly familiar warmth start to grow deep in her chest. The one she feels every time Yasha smiles at her, or stutters through a compliment, or blushes when Beau flirts with her. The feeling reminds her of the radiant warmth she feels when Yasha heals her. And it hasn’t escaped Beau’s notice that she is the only person on whom Yasha uses her magic healing hands.

It’s kind of nice to think she has Yasha’s hands all to herself.

But the middle of a fight with a fucking grim reaper knockoff that can put her on her ass with one look is not the fucking time for that mushy shit.

Beau summons enough strength to make it back to her feet. From the corner of her eye she sees Caleb gesture in her direction, and feels the familiar magical adrenaline surge. With Beau back up, the Mighty Nein dispatch the specter quickly, but not before the fucker manages to leech even more life from the party. Beau’s vision blurs once more, but this time she fights through the creeping darkness and remains on her feet. The specter fractures and disintegrates under the force of Fjord’s smite, the will-o-wisps following shortly behind. As the group catches their breath, Fjord wiping his blade clean, Caleb’s Haste spell wears off and Beau’s knees buckle as she crumples to the ground in exhaustion.

Beau’s head is spinning as the group interrogates their guide, Viridian, on the appearance of the specter. She tries to listen, she really does, but her eyes drift to Yasha, and the flex of her muscles as she cleans and sheathes her sword. Beau feels completely drained, her muscles like noodles. She doesn’t even know if her muscles are still there. God, she needs her muscles. She glances down to check, and gives her biceps a poke. Her vision swims so much she can’t make heads or tails of what she’s looking at. She reaches over and tugs at Caduceus’ pants.

“Caduceus,” she whispers (or at least, thinks she whispers. She could be yelling, for all her brain is cooperating right now). “Caduceus!” He looks down at her, sitting in the grass.

“Do I still have biceps? Did I lose my biceps, Caduceus?”

He studies her arms thoughtfully before making his assessment.

“I mean, they’re still there.”

Shit. Shit, her biceps are hot, dammit. And how is she supposed to pop pop without - 

“Beau? Can you make it another hour? Do you have a potion?”

She tries to brush Fjord off (“Y’know - psssh - I’m fine -”), but before she knows it, both Fjord and Caduceus have laid hands on her, and Jester has plopped down in front of her, reciting an incantation. The familiar healing energy from her three friends fills her body, and the dizziness subsides. As she feels her strength returning, she once again glances down at her biceps. Still there. Thank the gods.

As the group makes arrangements to keep moving, Viridian and Caduceus leading the way, Beau lets her eyes drift back to Yasha. She had respectfully moved out of the way to allow the healers to work on Beau, but has since conspicuously moved back to Beau’s side, eyes surreptitiously glancing her way, as if she wasn’t quite comfortable letting Beau out of her sight.

Beau feels that familiar warmth surge in her chest once more, only this time… she doesn’t push it away. In fact, she lets herself indulge.

Under her breath so as to not be overheard by the others, Beau whispers, “Yasha?”

Yasha’s eyes find hers immediately, as if waiting. The intensity, the  _ care _ in Yasha’s gaze causes Beau to falter.

“Beau? Do you need a hand?”

Beau knows what she wants, but it’s been a long time since she’s asked for this particular favor. She has always assumed that the few times Yasha has held her, it was to humor her. That she tolerated Beau’s antics, and simply let her amuse herself every once in a while.

That was, until the cathedral.

Beau didn’t like to think about it much, those long months that Yasha was gone.

_ Gone _ . Sure, that was one way to put it. Possessed. Kidnapped. Wreaking a path of destruction across the continent. Trying to kill her friends.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget it ever happened, now that Yasha is once again at home with the Mighty Nein. Other times, it’s hard to believe Obann and his fucked up schemes are in the past. It’s been weeks since  Caduceus broke the spell binding Yasha to Obann’s will, yet Beau still fears she’ll wake up to find it was all a dream - that Yasha is still possessed. Or worse, that Yasha chose to leave them in the first place.

After that fateful night beneath Bazzoxan, Beau’s lighthearted, and often heated, dreams of Yasha became nightmares. Whenever Beau closed her eyes, she was haunted by visions of how quickly the soul left Yasha’s eyes at a single word from Obann. The way she turned on her friends with no remorse. Watching Yasha’s normally vibrant, beautiful face turn stony, disappearing behind a great stone door as Jester and Nott cried out for their friend.

The uncertainty as to whether Yasha was truly possessed, or if this was her true nature all along, was a unique form of torture, and one that divided the group. But Beau knew Yasha - she knew her kindness, her dry humor, the gentleness that lay beneath the brawn. What kept Beau awake at night was the thought of Yasha, trapped in her own mind, trying desperately to break Obann’s bonds. Beau tried to focus on anything else - on Caduceus and his family, on Reani, on that  _ asshole _ Halas - but Yasha was always there, in the back of her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t let her go. And so Beau desperately waited for rain, listened for lightning, any possible sign of hope that Yasha would make it back to them - to her.

It didn’t storm once while Yasha was gone. She wondered if the Stormlord had abandoned her.

And then, the cathedral. Yasha, Obann, and the Laughing Hand were within their reach. Beau remembers the knock-down, drag-out fight that ensued, the one that had Beau prepared to take her last breaths staring into Yasha’s eyes. 

And then, the chains broke. The towering stained glass shattered with booming thunder and a crack of lightning, and Beau watched as Yasha let the storm in once more. She gave a primal roar and suddenly, she was their Yasha again. Beau’s Yasha.

Beau watched Yasha struggle for the right words as they continued beneath the cathedral, quietly asking for forgiveness, and doing her damndest to earn it. She used her hands to heal Beau’s wound that she herself had inflicted, rushed to her aid when Beau fell - just like old times. Once the battle was finished and Obann vanquished, her remorse broke Beau’s heart. But the memories, the emotional and physical wounds, were too fresh. That time, when Beau barely regained consciousness, she reached for Caleb’s great ape form to carry her to safety.

Delirious though she was, the crestfallen look on Yasha’s face as Beau reached for Caleb was seared into her memory. Only then did it click in Beau’s thick head that maybe, just maybe, Yasha agreed to hold Beau for her own selfish reasons.

In the forest of Rumblecusp, Yasha holds Beau’s gaze, awaiting her response. Beau decides to take the plunge.

"It's been a while since I've asked for this favor, but... will you hold me? Will you carry me?"

So briefly that Beau might have been hallucinating (which, let's be honest, after the beating she just took, she fucking might be), Yasha's eyes dart to her own feet as her pale cheeks flush pink. 

"Yeah, I can hold you."

With a gentleness that would surprise anyone who has seen Yasha cleave her enemies apart on the battlefield, Yasha placed one arm under Beau’s knees, and the other around her back, and carefully lifted Beau to rest against her chest. The corner of Yasha’s mouth lifted in a cheeky grin. “Take a load off.”

Wrapping her arm around Yasha’s shoulders, Beau couldn’t help but smile back. “This is nice,” she admits. Then, after a beat, “Thank you.”

Yasha ducks her head to hide her answering smile, and sets off with the rest of the party.

Viridian and the Mighty Nein steadily make their way through the marsh, Yasha carrying Beau safely in the middle of the pack. Glancing behind them, Beau sees Jester scribbling in her notebook, eyeing Yasha and Beau closely. She catches Beau’s eye and gives her a giant grin and a thumbs up, pointing to Yasha and Beau and back to Yasha repeatedly, winking dramatically. 

Beau huffs out a laugh in response, and begins miming to Jester behind Yasha’s back - how Yasha’s so strong, and warm, and comfortable. Jester laughs and winks again before returning to her notebook.

“Everything okay?”

Beau’s head whips around at the sound of Yasha’s voice so close to her ear. Her cheeks flush and she stutters out a response.

“Yeah, it’s - it’s nothing.”

Seemingly satisfied, Yasha returns her gaze forward, carrying on through the woods.

Beau may have been joking with Jester, but honestly? Yasha is warm. She’s warm, and strong, and her steady grip on Beau’s body brings Beau a true comfort she hasn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t that long ago when Beau thought she would never get to feel Yasha’s embrace ever again. The warmth in the center of Beau’s chest grows stronger, and with it comes an ache, an overwhelming desire to never let this woman go again.

Feeling bold, she wraps her other arm around Yasha’s neck and tucks her nose into the crook of Yasha’s neck, holding her close, savoring her.

She smells like wildflowers.

Outside the swamp, Yasha gently sets Beau down when the group agrees to take a rest. Already pleasantly dozing in Yasha’s embrace, Beau immediately curls in on herself on the ground and easily slips into a dreamless sleep. 

She zones in and out over the next hour as the party rests, heals, and discusses Viridian and the mysterious Vokodo. On one occasion, Beau feels a cool rag being gently laid on the back of her neck. She opens her eyes long enough to meet Yasha’s gentle gaze as she tends to Beau.

“You’re okay,” Yasha says softly. “Go back to sleep, we have a little more time before we need to head out again.”

Beau doesn’t finish nodding before she’s asleep once more.

The afternoon passes with the Mighty Nein following their mysterious guide into the creepy fucking volcano and into a series of winding, underwater tunnels to meet this sketchy god, or whatever Vokodo is. Beau’s sense of unease grows as they meet the mysterious creature, and begin to make their offerings.

As desperate as they are to get away from Vokodo, Beau swears she sees Yasha stifle a chuckle as Beau convinces the creature to accept her bag of stolen suude, and saves her beloved bracers.

When Yasha removes her sword from her back, and offers Skingorger to Vokodo, Beau can’t help but feel almost… relieved. Her hand subconsciously rises to press against her chest, just above the scar that the same sword left mere weeks ago. They will find a way for Yasha to defend herself, Vokodo can keep the damn sword.

At the first opportunity, the party hastily retreats from Vokodo’s lair, to a campsite a safe distance from the volcano. Meeting Vokodo had raised more questions than answers, plus finding out Viridian is actually some woman named Vilya who has apparently been mind controlled by this island for 25 years, Beau and the rest of the party are more than ready for a long night’s sleep before tackling tomorrow’s problems. 

As Caleb finishes this evening’s security spells around the dome, Beau sets up her bedroll in the only spot left, between Jester and Yasha, both of whom are already snoring peacefully. Beau settles on the ground, ready to pass out herself, when she notices Jester’s notebook peeking out of her haversack. Beau’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she quietly slips the notebook free and opens it to the last page.

It’s a drawing of Beau and Yasha. A  _ good _ drawing. For all the dick drawings and defacements, Beau knows Jester is actually an incredibly talented artist, but this drawing takes her breath away.

The drawing is from Jester’s perspective as they were marching through the swamp, with Yasha’s broad, muscular back on full display as she carries Beau in her arms. In the portrait, Beau is dozing against Yasha’s shoulder, arms wrapped around Yasha to hold her close. But it’s not Yasha’s physique that catches her eye - Jester has captured Yasha’s face in profile, gazing down at Beau’s sleeping form. The softness and - dare she say it? -  _ love _ in Yasha’s expression radiates off the page.

Beau doesn’t know how much is artistic expression - it  _ is _ Jester, after all - and how much emotion she actually saw in the two of them, but the portrait reminds Beau of that same overwhelming feeling - she doesn’t ever want to let Yasha go.

Beau safely tucks the notebook back in Jester’s haversack. Rolling to her other side, Beau is met with Yasha’s sleeping form, her face relaxed and soft, lips slightly parted as she gets some much needed rest. Yasha has fallen asleep with one arm partially extended towards Beau’s bedroll, reaching for her even in sleep. Beau settles in, studying Yasha at her most vulnerable, allowing that warmth in her chest to suffuse her entire body once more.

She doesn’t ever want to let Yasha go.

Beau closes the gap, entwining her fingers with Yasha’s. Yasha stirs, and just for a moment, Beau thinks she might pull away. But Yasha’s long fingers gently squeeze Beau’s in return, and she lets out a soft sigh. Beau can’t fight the smile that takes over her face at the gesture. Hand in hand, she lets sleep take her. 

Beau dreams of wildflowers. 

**Author's Note:**

> lol anyway the last time i wrote fanfic was on ffnet so. do with that information what you will
> 
> come find me on tumblr @groves or on twitter @groves625


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